


didn't marry you for your money (or your attention to detail)

by Roodles



Series: Not a Cellist [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Valentine's Day, Tony is bad with holidays, ironagent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roodles/pseuds/Roodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's February 15th, and Tony thinks he forgot something kinda important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	didn't marry you for your money (or your attention to detail)

**Author's Note:**

> I feel as though I haven't posted in forever. My muse is running full tilt, but my ability to write anything that's not crap has gone right on out the window. I tried to lock it, but it didn't work. In any case, hopefully I'll be able to write again, haha.
> 
> So, here's some fluff. Set somewhere between their first Christmas and Iron Man. I have no idea. I just know that Tony would forget, and he'd be torn between righteous 'I'm Tony Stark!' indignation and 'Oh, well I probably should have gotten him some sex coupons'. Poor Tony.
> 
>  
> 
> [Click for the chronological order of Not a Cellist](http://archiveofourown.org/series/64708)
> 
>  
> 
> As always, I don't have a beta so all errors are mine.

“Good morning, Sir. It is 10 o’clock AM on the morning of February 15th, sunny, though there is a high pressure system coming down the coast…”

 

Tony rolled over in bed, grumbling at JARVIS to shut the hell up already. It was his standard wake up call, but he didn’t really give a damn. His mind sluggishly rebooted itself, synapses not quite up to speed as he flopped onto his back with a grunt. Ten was far too early to be awake, and he didn’t have any meetings to attend, so why was JARVIS bugging him?

 

February 15th seemed like it should have some sort of significance to the plebes, or was it the day before? He slid out of bed with a grumble, picking up the nearest t-shirt from the floor and dragging it over his head.

 

“Mmm...significant holidays, J. I feel like I’m missin’ something.”

“Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, Sir. Traditionally a romantic holiday in which couples exchange gifts, often in the form of chocolates and flowers.”

 

Tony had never been much for Valentine’s Day. He was too scrawny in high school, at least three years younger (sometimes more) than the rest of his peers and in no way prepared to give pretty girls or boys pretty flowers. By the time he’d reached MIT, booze and binge engineering were far more important than finding girlfriends (or boyfriends). Rhodey and his girl painted the apartment red for a few days, and Tony had been more than happy to escape the romance by holing up in his workshop.

 

If he hated Valentine’s Day so much, why did he feel like he was missing something important?

 

Phil.

 

Whoops. Tony had a husband. Who might have appreciated being appreciated for Valentine’s Day. Shit. Running his fingers through his bedhead, Tony’s mind struggled to comprehend his screw up. What should he have done? Phil didn’t like islands. Or he acted like he didn’t, though that week in the tropics seemed to do him some good after a nasty mission. Chocolates? Flowers? What does a man get a man? Sex coupons were always good, though Tony was proven to be allergic to the verbal and physical incarnations of the word “coupon”. Vouchers? Vouching for what? A blow job?

 

“Sir, your husband requests your presence in the kitchen,” JARVIS intoned, and Tony was positive he heard a note of amusement in his AI’s voice. So, Phil had come home at god knows what hour. Probably early. Tony was also allergic to early.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony snapped. Taking a moment to scrub his teeth and gargle some mouthwash, he tried to compose himself enough to trot downstairs and confront his husband. Was he expected to apologize? Would Phil be upset that he didn’t remember? Fuck it. He was Tony Stark and he was going in with guns blazing.

 

He found Phil at the kitchen counter, measuring out a smoothie into two glasses. He seemed as placid as ever, humming what suspiciously sounded like Star Spangled Man, though they’d had Talks about it. Namely how it drove Tony up a wall and made him want to use violence, even though Phil could wipe the floor with him several times over and not break a sweat.

 

Smoothies were an effective way to placate Tony’s ire, so when a glass was pressed into his hand and followed by a quick peck on his lips, he considered it an acceptable offering.

 

“You’re chipper,” Tony grumbled as he climbed onto a stool by the island counter. Phil chuckled, taking two plates from the microwave and setting them down. Waffles, bacon, smoothies. It was sickeningly domestic, though Tony would only admit he loved it under extreme duress.

 

“Mm. I’m on leave for the next few days. I’m relishing the opportunity to not get shot at for the next week.”

 

Tony made a sound of protest around a bite of waffle. Phil had kept his actual job description a secret; something that was truly impressive in the face of both Tony and Pepper’s combined resources. The idea of his husband getting shot at was incredibly unsettling, despite Tony’s chosen profession as an arms dealer.

 

“Any pressing plans for this week?” Phil asked, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin upon clearing his plate. Where had the napkin even come from? Did he have plans? Pepper hadn’t called threatening to quit, so he assumed the answer was no.

 

JARVIS only let his mouth hang open in dumbfounded thought for half a minute before chiming in. “Sir has no meetings planned, nor any pressing engagements for the next week.”

 

“I’ll be damned,” Tony muttered, chasing the last bit of waffle around his plate before stuffing it into his mouth. Glancing over at Phil, Tony found his expression unreadable. The anxiety of his post-Valentine’s Day fuck up was still present, and his mind kick started itself again to ruminate on the problem. He absently realized that he was sipping a cup of coffee that had been pressed into his hands, and that Phil had disappeared to somewhere in the house.

 

Two cups of coffee later, Phil reappeared in a polo and slacks, looking slightly more at ease now that he was out of his suit. Tony preferred the polo-slacks combo, because it made it far easier to strip him and have his way, but the suits looked good too.

 

“There’s a Stargate marathon on,” Phil offered, not bothering to wait on Tony’s response as he walked into the living room.

 

“SG-1 or Atlantis?”

 

“Which one is the only one worth mentioning?”

 

Downing the rest of his coffee, Tony left the cup on the island and went into the living room, vaulting over the couch and plopping down into the spot next to Phil.

 

“You know me so well, darling,” Tony drawled, stretching out.

 

“Mmm. If only everyone were so lucky,” Phil murmured, and Tony had the feeling he really meant it.

 

Television could only keep Tony’s brain occupied for so long, and by the third episode he was fidgeting in place, plucking at the thread of his t-shirts and rummaging through Phil’s pockets for anything interesting.

 

“Something on your mind?”

“No.”

“You should share with the class.”

“I’ll show mine if you show me yours.”

“As tempting as that is, no.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like ‘nothing’.”

“It isn’t. Nothing, that is.”

“Is that why you’ve destroyed the remote with the paperclip from my pocket?”

“You should know better than to trust me with office supplies. Also, who needs remotes? We have JARVIS.”

“Call me old fashioned.”

 

Tony’s equilibrium took a few moments to settle from getting shoved backwards onto the couch cushions. Normally Phil would wait him out, but it was apparent that he was set on finding the answers to Tony’s reticence. Getting straddled was a nice benefit, though there was no promise of sex anywhere in the near future.

 

“Something’s on your mind, and I’m not spending my break with you in the workshop avoiding whatever it is that’s bothering you,” Phil stated, dropping down to bracket Tony’s head with his forearms.

 

“I fucked up.”

“Keep going.”

“Today’s the 15th.”

“I’m aware.”

“Do you like chocolates? I know we’ve had the ‘no fleet of Audi’s’ talk, but there’s gotta be something.”

“Are you attempting to buy my affections?”

“Maybe? Yesterday was the 14th.”

“I’m aware of that as well.”

“I was supposed to...do stuff, or something. I forgot.”

“You’re upset because you forgot Valentine’s Day?”

“Yes? No? I don’t care about it, but it’s about loving your partner and all that shit, and it’s one of those holidays where sappiness it a prerequisite before you get into making your own chocolate and candy hearts that say ‘B-MINE’ and the spelling is atrocious, and I’m not really a sap but I really think those candy hearts are fucking stupid and-”

 

Phil had clapped a hand over his mouth; it was his favorite way of shutting Tony up, and incredibly effective. He was never fazed when Tony licked his palm, so he was forced to lay there and shut up.

 

“When I married you, I was well aware that things like holidays might slip your notice. It was hard enough dragging you out of the workshop for Christmas. Valentine’s Day is a blip on the radar, all things considered.”

 

He removed his hand, and Tony squawked indignantly.

“I’m a fucking genius. I can remember holidays.”

“What’s your social security number?”

“Eh…there’s a five in there, somewhere.”

“Which is why I have that information memorized and your brain cells are freed up to invent,” Phil chided, tapping Tony’s temple.

 

Phil huffed out a laugh, leaning down to brush his mouth against Tony’s. If anyone dared to convince him that there wasn’t a sensual being under that suit, he wouldn’t argue. He was keeping Phil all to himself.

 

Humming thoughtfully, Tony reached up and brought his husband closer for a proper, filthy kiss that left them both panting. There was some reshuffling, and eventually Tony’s back was pressed up against Phil’s front, the indignation of playing ‘Little Spoon’ soon lost in the wake of Phil’s lips against his neck, and his arm wrapped possessively Tony’s middle.

 

“So, no Valentine’s Day issues. Good to hear,” Tony said, just for extra clarification.

“Mmhmm. Valentine’s Day isn’t worth getting my taser out.”

 

Tony’s alarmed whine was drowned out by the opening credits of the next Stargate episode.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos/Comments welcome!


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